In The Funeral
I worked alone at his funeral
wished to be mine
I say
you left me alone in this scary world
so I closed my eyes
hoping wind will come to change the places.
I worked to the west
and saw his face
smile and raising up sky
I asked him why you leave me alone
but he gone away...
away from me.
I'm now in the south
in the place we met for the first time
I looked around, searching for you
just for luxury life
I woke up to realize
my BROTHER has gone
I worked at his funeral
holding with me all my sorrow
even if life and people
separate us..
I'm going to love you in my whole life
even if you are going to be away from me
I always wanted to be with you out there.
poem by Khalid Alalawi
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Aftermath
Now the radio stutters. snaps to life.
Some sour song that sets it right.
And when London falls
He'd like to call
But the stars collide.
They're beautiful and much maligned.
In a universe where you see the worst,
And it's up to you to fix it.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
It's easy to dismiss the "what's it all about" crowd.
There is no doubt. it's this, here, now.
And you close your eyes.
He's not coming back.
So you work it out, overfeed the cat.
And the plants are dry and they need to drink.
So you do your best. and you flood the sink.
Sit down in the kitchen and cry.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
Now the universe left you for a runners lap.
It feels like home when it comes crashing back.
And it makes you laugh
And it makes you cry,
When London falls
And you're still alive.
The radio stutters,
It makes you laugh
And the aftermath,
Open up your eyes.
You're so alive.
Now you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you've worked it out
And you see it all
And you want to shout
How you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
How you've worked it out
And you see it all
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work To Do!
i came from a generation
that worked.... was born to
work, daylight to dawn,
for everything we had.
we grew our own food, we
cut firewood, we worked
with our hands.
we were taught to work...
we built houses, bridges,
paved roads... worked on
farms, worked in sawmills,
worked in factories...
whatever it took for food
and shelter...
and if a neighbor got hurt,
or sick, and couldnt work...
we helped him and his family
till he could.
those of us left who can work
are still working, a lot of us are
out of work, and cant find work!
and so the world has changed...
it seems like a lot of people
spend more time avoiding work
than working... a lot of people
look for the easy way out...are
dependent on society...
still a lot of good and willing people
just need help.
they call this progress...based
on technology, and looking out for
number one. seperated, almost islands...
greed has taken the place of the bent back!
so when it all falls apart, and that will
be soon, what happens? who knows how
to survive? who has the backbone?
things to think about, and yes...
work to do!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Changing For Them
Some people do it to be popular,
Some people do it for closure,
I for one am not a fan of change,
It forces you to act strange and rearrange,
Sue me,
Tell me I’m not a proper member of society,
But someone has to stand up and stop this monstrosity,
Why change yourself,
something that is so unique,
why,
just to be poplular and chic,
your personality has taken a life time to build,
don’t change it for the public,
just put up a shield,
I hate when people change so they can be disguised,
But you should just let the world see you for yourself,
Please just realize,
You don’t have to cover up your true self,
Don’t be afraid,
Especially by people who have your integrity caged,
It’s not a matter of fitting in,
But a matter of surviving life,
so why let them win that strife,
you’ve worked too hard to get to this point,
all it takes to screw it up is smoking a joint,
even if you’ve experimented before,
it's the past,
let it be a closed door,
you learn from your mistakes and all your inadequacies,
so change your life for the better,
change it positively,
I’m not saying you have to follow my advice,
But next time your with your “friends” think twice,
Only you carry the key to your future,
So also remember you are the only person responsible for your failures.
poem by Krissy Sosa
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Just Be You 2/13/10
Some people do it to be popular,
Some people do it for closure,
I for one am not a fan of change,
It forces you to act strange and rearrange,
Sue me,
Tell me I’m not a proper member of society,
But someone has to stand up and stop this monstrosity,
Why change yourself,
something that is so unique,
why,
just to be poplular and chic,
your personality has taken a life time to build,
don’t change it for the public,
just put up a shield,
I hate when people change so they can be disguised,
But you should just let the world see you for yourself,
Please just realize,
You don’t have to cover up your true self,
Don’t be afraid,
Especially by people who have your integrity caged,
It’s not a matter of fitting in,
But a matter of surviving life,
so why let them win that strife,
you’ve worked too hard to get to this point,
all it takes to screw it up is smoking a joint,
even if you’ve experimented before,
it's the past,
let it be a closed door,
you learn from your mistakes and all your inadequacies,
so change your life for the better,
change it positively,
I’m not saying you have to follow my advice,
But next time your with your “friends” think twice,
Only you carry the key to your future,
So also remember you are the only person responsible for your failures.
poem by Vanessa Elizabeth Giron
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A Poem to Remember
The is a sorrow none should know
Yet so many have come to
It only takes a minute for a life to change
Something taken, never to be replaced
The understanding of these dangers
The loss they leave behind
For a life that has worked so hard
And is as beautiful as any other
Please don’t forget, remember
We can all play a part in this life
In being there when needed
Those sullen eyes, dried of tears
Need not look so alone
The sounds of love and friendship
The art of understanding
Under a watchful eye
That we may ease the suffering
Of a sorrow none should know
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Breakaway
if melody
is my destiny
than what's left of me,
i'll give to you..
and if next to me,
is all that you need to be
would you settle for fantasy,
if it's the best you could do?
can I have my cake?
can i have you too?
would you follow me?
could i ask you to?
would the world between us,
break these ties?
we worked so hard
to realize..
can a postcard say,
what i see in your eyes?
could i ever break away?
would i be satisfied,
and find peace inside
rolling half my life
over broken white lines?
can i have my cake,
can i have you too?
would you follow me,
could i ask you too?
will i wake up one morning,
and see your face
in the streaks on the window,
that the rainstorm makes?
could you bear all the waiting,
and the strength that it takes?
could i ever break away?
could i ever break away?
can i have my cake?
can i have you too?
would you follow me?
could i ask you to?
would the world between us,
break these ties?
we worked so hard to realize..
can a postcard say,
what i see in your eyes?
could i ever break away?
could i ever break away?
away...
away..
away
song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The point at which we worked with some of these actors, they weren't really stars yet. Nicolas Cage was not a big star when we did Raising Arizona. A lot of these people were also virtually unknown, too, when we worked with them first.
I had a thought on your funeral...
Eighty years of life
on this Earth
Was it worth?
I had a thought on your funeral.
Eighty years ago in heaven
when you were just the soul
and wanted to forever become
a part of this whole
You urged God to grant you a life
And promised
you would this time achieve your goal
But did you keep your promise at all?
I had a thought on your funeral.
The aim of your taking birth was
Service, contribution and asceticism
You instead chose
Hoarding, platitude and hedonism
God prescribed
Love, joy and compassion
On your life you inscribed
Jealousy, gloom and repression
I had a thought on your funeral.
Childhood’s dawn wiped out in dependence
Lust devoured on the morning of adolescence
Youth’s noon you squandered
due to fear and apprehension
Dusk of old age got totaled in
egotism, vanity and pretension
I had a thought on your funeral.
I asked myself
Was I any different from you?
Was I keeping my own promise to God?
The response from within came in negative
My heart did not give the nod
Seeing you sleeping in God’s lap
with a performance that was dismal
Your funeral appeared to me
as God’s signal
And I realized I had a chance to change
before I reached my own burial.
I had a thought on your funeral.
(30.08.2011; New Delhi; India)
poem by Anshul Gupta
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Smash
Hey
What are you thinking
I tried to reach your face
Say
See what youre thinking
Dont carry around that pain
Everytime I see you
Picking at yourself
I love
I love when things worked out
Smash
I heard you crying
Seven times this year
Crash
cause now youre smilin
Holding back those tears
Every time I see you
Picking at yourself
I love
I love when things worked out
Every time I see you
Torturing yourself
I love
I love when things worked out
I see it from another place right now
Im coming home before I hit the ground
Run fast there I wanna be gone now
Smash
And I feel it
Smash
And I feel it
Smash
And I feel it
Right now
song performed by by Goo Goo Dolls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angry Young Men
In this world today,
there are many angry young men
who feel that
they are owed something
for doing nothing in return.
They feel everyone owes them,
but for what I ask?
Unlike when I was young,
we hard worked for
everything we wanted.
There were no handouts.
You worked or went without,
but these angry young men
think they deserve everything for free.
One day they might learn
you never get anything for nothing
and their tantrums will not change it.
They’ll just have to realize
no one is going to tolerate them
when they hold out a wanting hand.
12 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Struggle for Time
Time sits still when you want it to pass
Tic-Toc goes the seconds, Re-united at last
But this Time, I felt like the clock was against me
It didnt want this to happen
Yet Time for you, gave you time to be
to be yourself and to above all be free
But time for me, felt like slavery
Locked down in a prison of bitter-sweet savory
Time for you gave you time to let others in
Time for me stopped, I couldnt tell when again It'd begin
While Time worked against me, I fought back in a counter-clockwise direction
Pushing the forces of time in reverse,
But then I realized fighting time, let Time win
Because time ran on its own schedule
And though time is of the essence, time hasnt given me his blessings
And now Time for me, has run out
Time took hope with him too
Just when I thought time took all that it could,
Time rushed back in, and took all that was good
Time left me broke, so I worked hard for that overtime pay
But Time rushed back in, and took that away
I said I'd get it another day
So Time decided to leave me stuck in the past
I decided to sleep. Hoping Time would leave me atlast
And leave my eloped hope with me, and all that is good in peace
Time left in my dreams that night, And i woke up to the
Tic-Toc of the seconds, and I was re-united at last
poem by Jason Murak
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I wouldn't say I worked with these people because I was looking for a particular vocal sound. I worked with them because I loved what they had done before-and because they really wanted to work with me.
quote by Melanie Chisholm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With The Pride
Just leave me with the pride
That i worked for
Now they've taken the reason away
Just leave me with the pride
That i worked for
Today
Build on rock, or build on sand,
They're never gonna lend a hand
So nothing grows or nothing stands
I can't take any more
I can't take any more
There's not a lot of space for me
But i've still got my dignity
I've got my price
Don't say i'm free
I can't take anymore
I can't take anymore
But i'm hungry
I could eat anything
But i'm hungry
Oh, let's dance, oh, let's swing
And all that i hear are the words that she sings
Now they've taken it all
Now they've taken it all
I'd rather take this cure for life
Than make myself a sacrifice
If living is to pay the price
I can't take anymore
I can't take anymore
It takes a while to understand
When your eyes are full of sand
When only time is in your hands
I can't take anymore
I can't take anymore
But i'm hungry
I could eat anything
But i'm hungry
Oh, let's dance, oh, let's swing
And all that i hear are the words that she sings
Now they've taken it all
Now they've taken it all
Just leave me with the pride
Taht i worked for
Now they've taken the reason away
Just leave me with the pride
That i worked for
Today.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier Dad
Sadness in my everyday life,
knowing he wont come back.
Off to save the world,
he is such a hero.
Ma and me at home
looking at old pictures
of us together.
We looked so happy like a
perfect family that never has any problems,
all of us sitting together with a big smile
on our faces, with dorky outfits on.
A shotgun blows in the distance
with a pile of smoke in the air.
The bullets dropping on the ground
over coming the gun fire.
My dad is holding the shotgun
shooting another man for his country.
Protecting us and the world
from evil.
With a smile on his face
puts a smile on mine.
He wrote us a letter to let us know he loves
me and ma very much and that he has great news
he is coming home soon; he will be on leave for
two weeks.-
Tomorrow my daddy is
coming home. I’m so happy.-
Knock on the door,
There’s a bunch of army people here.
Carrying my daddies belongings,
they tell us my dad is dead-
my ma drops to the floor
crying her eyes out.-
Today’s my daddies’ funeral,
thousands of people attended
seeing my dad in a coffin for the first
time in months and he’s
dead-
Sadness and pain is in my families’ everyday life.
poem by Chantel Braatz
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Is That All There Is?
'Is this all there is too life? '
I over heard my husband say.
I worked and slaved my life away,
And worked for little pay.
Now I am retired, and working harder then, I ever did before.
Is this all there is?
I thought there would be so much more!
I am lucky if I'll live till I'm old,
All my friends I knew did not!
Is that what we had all worked our lives for,
And what is it we have got?
Cars' not paid for, the morgage still due,
Had to take a loan on the house,
For those braces for son Drew.
I am walking a bit much slower,
My legs and feet have pain.
How much longer do I have too work,
I was'nt looking at doing this again!
Retirement is not as our Fathers' knew,
When they retired, and sailed the oceans blue!
Mom and Dad got a ticket and traveled,
They enjoyed those Golden Years,
Only enjoyed and known by few!
Is this all there is?
Because I wanted to enjoy my end years with you,
I guess I'll make the best of what we've got,
You have me, and I'm blessed to have you!
poem by Linda Winchell
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Small Town America
just an old southern
mill village.... cotton mills
on one side of the road,
furniture factories on the other.
momma worked there,
my sister worked there,
my brother worked there,
and i worked there....
$1.90 an hour, loading trucks
by hand, stacking rolls of cloth
eight feet high without a lift...
putting brackets on beds, or
running bandsaws....
hard hand work, paid every week.
all those buildings empty now....
windows boarded over, signs
falling.... rats run across haunted floors.
even the old gas station
down at the end of the road....
is closed.... no more gas,
no cigarettes, no cold beer.....
and the Sons Of Jesus,
and the Elk's Club quit sharing
the old dance building on the corner....
no one lives here anymore.....
no one lives, no one dies....
and the bum on the corner
that looks like your brother
has no name.... in
small town America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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People I Belong To
Oh my father, he was a brother
He worked his body hard to make ends meet
Oh my mother remained his lover
The things they did, the things they said
Go round and round inside my head, for good
Oh my brother, when he was a schoolboy
He gave up all his dreams to take on mine
Oh my brother, now I have me one other
The things weve said, the things weve done
Stay in my heart since I was young
And oh this world wont change for me
The special things in life are free
Ive always known and understood
There are people I belong to for good
Oh my lady, she want my baby
She get me through my days and through my nights
Oh my lover, now I have me no other
The things we do, the things we say
I get more and more love each day
And oh this world wont change for me
The special things in life are free
Ive always known and understood
There are people I belong to for good
Oh my mother and my father
And my brother and my lover
Oh my mother and my father
And my brother and my lover
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shorter Week
I worked for fifty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Don't be a serf! Throw off your chains,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut down my working hours
And found, upon the whole,
The leisure time I had to spare
Good for my body's carking care,
And better for my soul.
I worked for forty hours a week,
And someone said to me,
'Release your bonds, you shackled slave!
Show all the world you're free!'
So I reduced my working hours
And found in leisured lull,
The more I sought to play, the more
Amusement had become a bore,
And life was rather dull.
I worked for twenty hours a week,
And someone said to me
'Awake, you mutt! Snap out of it,
And show the world you're free!'
So I cut out my working hours
And found that joy had flit.
Upon black melancholia's brink,
I sometimes used to sit and think
And sometimes merely sit.
I worked for not one hour a week,
And someone said to me,
'You lazy coot! Arise and shine!
You call this being free?'
So I resolved I'd better far
Rejoin the toiling mob.
But when I rose and looked around,
To my intense digust I found
Someone had pinched my job.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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I probably worked every single entertainment medium, including some that don't exist. I worked the circus, carnival, I had my own medicine show, I worked 18 years of radio.
Out all of these zillions of letters, one of the first ones that came was, as it turned out from Johnny Carson within the last five or six weeks of his life. I had worked with him. He lost a son who had worked for me.
quote by Dick Ebersol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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